


if it takes fighting a war for us to meet it will have been worth it

by quentinknockout



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5999880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quentinknockout/pseuds/quentinknockout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn recovers with the Resistance, and Poe always seems within easy reach. Short scenes. Just fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if it takes fighting a war for us to meet it will have been worth it

It is agony at first, slipping in and out. Sometimes Finn can see, sometimes he cannot. Flashes of white, a dull ache in the back of his skull, the hum of machines. Warm lips to his forehead. _My friend_.  
But there’s something else, a hand that seems to be there whenever he’s nearly awake, a callused thumb running over his palm. Soft words, barely more than a whisper.  
_Hey, Finn. Do you hear me?_  
When he comes round properly, the room is empty and bare. The jacket is folded across a chair in the corner.  
He makes it out of bed the next day. And then the next. Bruises fade away, the wounds start to seal and scab. He wakes up early still, trying to help where and whenever he can. Poe never seems far away, a hand at his elbow, saving him a seat, waiting for him to catch up, laughing at his jokes.  
Finn really does love to make Poe laugh.   
  
\---  
Poe says Finn’s name a lot. It’s always quick from his lips. _Finn, hey, saved you a seat_. _Finn, over here._ He’s the one who gave it to him, after all, but Finn never expected such continued kindness, such easy trust.  
_You know_ , Poe says, very casually, only a week after Finn has recovered, _you don’t have to keep that name. You can pick another if you want._  
_That’s why I like it_. Finn replies, almost wounded. _Because you’re the one who gave it to me_.  
Perhaps he imagines the dusty pink blush that settled across Poe’s face.  
  
\---  
There’s an anniversary. A key victory in the Resistance a year earlier. Poe and many of the others had fought. Finn doesn’t like the commemoration, he can only think of his helmet smeared in blood, the innocent civilians, planets disintegrating.  
  
General Leia speaks with Poe, but when he turns away his smile fades. He moves to the corner, shrinking back. There is something there in the furrow of his brow, something heavy and sad.  
Finn brings him a drink, stands beside him. Everyone else seems to be talking and moving loudly. The nearer they stand, the more they are a fixed point in a blur.  
_War is never kind_ , Poe says very softly, and he is leaning very close. _Not for either side_.  
Finn collects Poe’s hand in his own, tightly. No one sees.  
  
\---  
  
The following morning, Finn sees Poe in the hangar, frowning down at some spare parts, searching for a quick fix for some mechanical misfire.  His eyes roam across the collection, his forehead smeared with grease. Finally, he glances up. His eyes fall on Finn.   
He smiles.  
  
A switch flips in Finn's chest, light filling an unused room. For a second, he cannot breathe.  
_Hi,_ he mumbles, stupidly, as if he’s forgotten what he’s came for.  
Poe approaches, wiping his hands, concern shining in his eyes. _You feeling okay?_  
He moves closer, just a tiny bit smaller, just a tiny bit slighter, his dark curls within reach.  
So Finn leans forward and kisses him.  
Poe doesn’t move away, instead, he rocks forward on his toes and his hands find the jacket, gripping the corners. His lips are soft.  
_A nice surprise_ , Poe’s voice is far more gentle, a whisper, and his hands remain on Finn’s jacket.  
_Is it?_ Finn feels so clumsy and stupid. _Sorry, I_ …  
_Don’t say sorry_. Finn can count Poe’s eyelashes. _Do it again._  
  
\---  
Finn discovers that he loves the many different ways Poe can say his name. When it dies on Poe’s lips, breathed in his ear, the last syllable of a ragged breath, when he can feel it tremble from Poe’s ribcage. He sees the scars and counts them, the long thin one on Poe’s chest, across his heart.  
_I said war wasn’t kind_ , Poe murmurs sleepily, _but I’m glad I met you_.  
_Little victories_ , Finn whispers into his hair in return. _One by one_.


End file.
